


White Wolf

by eclecticxdetour



Series: Tumblr Bucky/Steve Ficlets [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Present Tense, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclecticxdetour/pseuds/eclecticxdetour
Summary: It's Halloween night and something's broken into the house.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Tumblr Bucky/Steve Ficlets [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/171188
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	White Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [HERE](https://eclecticxdetour.tumblr.com/post/633288303410544640/its-the-spooky-month-but-there-is-a-severe-lack) in response to an Anon's ask: _It's the spooky month but there is a severe lack of the WHITE WOLF in werewolf form art /fics_

**Title** : White Wolf  
**Pairing** : Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers  
**Word Count** : 1284  
**Rating** : PG-13 (language)  
**Warnings** : AU - canon divergence, established relationship, bipedal werewolf, incredibly sappy werewolf actions, present tense  
**Spoilers** : none  
**Disclaimer** : I don't own any of these characters or their universe.  
**Summary** :   
**A/N:** Originally posted [HERE](https://eclecticxdetour.tumblr.com/post/633288303410544640/its-the-spooky-month-but-there-is-a-severe-lack) in response to an Anon's ask: _It's the spooky month but there is a severe lack of the WHITE WOLF in werewolf form art /fics_

Frowning, Steve walks through the open gate. The back door is _missing_ , hinges hanging off of the splintered jamb. Their alarm isn’t trilling and it doesn’t seem like their neighbors have noticed anything’s amiss. It’s late, though, the Sinclairs next door already in bed and incredibly hard of hearing.

He sets his duffle by the fence and cautiously makes his way up to the house, footsteps light on the creaky deck. The door crashed into the dining table with enough force to knock it askew and tip over two of the chairs. Whoever got in had meant to get into _their_ house.

The only light is from the fridge, upper doors flung open, freezer drawer pulled nearly all the way free. A jar of pickles lays shattered on the tiles, bottles of condiments and sundries tossed haphazardly either side of the open freezer. Shreds of plastic wrapping and yellow and white styrofoam make a trail toward the stairs. O-kay, whoever got in was also apparently very hungry…

Steve quietly makes his way up the carpeted steps. The house _smells_. Sure, he and Buck don’t keep the place in Open House condition, but it’s never smelled like this. It’s _weird_. Nothing nauseating like rot or decay. He inhales deeply. Something like petrichor and hot sidewalk. Except it hasn’t rained in two weeks despite the overcast skies. Tonight’s so clear the moon looms huge and yellow like a cat’s eye.

Bigger chunks of styrofoam litter the upstairs hall. It’s quiet and dark. _Still_. Maybe whoever blew through the house came and went.

He pauses. There are marks in the carpet. Steve looks back upon his own path, soles of his shoes leaving obvious impressions in the fibers. These marks are not that. _Whatever_ had come before him left no foot- or shoe-prints. Bits of shag are pulled up around the clustered slashes.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathes, taking another deep breath and following the slashes and styrofoam into his and Bucky’s bedroom.

It’s a goddamn mess. The comforter’s been ripped off the bed, sheets all twisted, and his pillow’s missing. _Only_ his pillow. Bucky’s side of the bed is as undisturbed as it can be considering the state of Steve’s.

The dresser’s been ransacked, socks unballed, underwear, workout gear, and pajamas strewn about the floor. Steve crouches down and picks up a pair of his lounge pants. There’s… _fur_ on them. And is that, he prods a pink blob… _meat_?

He brings his finger up to his face, and as he leans in to sniff the cool mysterious substance, a low rumble draws Steve’s attention to the en-suite. The pajamas fall out of his hand. He puts his back against the wall and edges toward the bathroom.

Their laundry hamper’s tipped over in the bathroom doorway, white plastic split down one side, dirty clothes conspicuously absent. He braces himself and leans around the jamb.

Steve’s jaw drops.

Upon the pile of missing laundry rests the source of the stink, a huge white mass. A _beast_ , really. Body heaving as it breathes. His pillow’s there, in the thing’s maw. His eyes flit across the tiled floor, more styrofoam and hunks of meat are scattered among the clothes. All _Bucky’s_ clothes, ‘cuz the beast apparently had taken a liking to _Steve’s._ Dragged all his dirty shirts, pants, and underwear into its own personal hoard.

He lets himself catalog the beast’s features. It’s wolf-like yet entirely unlike any wolf he’s ever seen. It’s _massive_. The ears are relatively small compared to the size of its head and body. Its neck and shoulders are thick. Steve takes a step closer without even thinking to, kicking the broken hamper into the bathroom counter, plastic clattering loudly against the wood.

The beast’s eyes snap open. strikingly blue even in the dark of the bathroom. It shakes its head as it yawns, dropping the pillow and revealing the sharp points of its enormous teeth.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” whispers Steve, creeping backward as the beast rises from its slumber. Rises, and rises, and _rises_ , easily filling the generous space of the en-suite. He reaches into his jacket for a weapon that isn’t there. The beast—wolf— _thing_ prowls toward him, head tipping, snout scrunching. It's _seen_ him, clearly, but as it leaves the, the _nest_ it's created for itself, it scents the air and lets out a soft howl.

He scurries further backward, backs of his knees smashing into the edge of the bed, and the beast is _on_ him. That odd smell surrounds him as he’s caged in on his back, slightly wet nose of the _Werewolf_ nudging at the underside of his jaw.

Steve twists his head away from the Were’s muzzle and his eyes widen, lighting upon a familiar metal arm. “Bucky?!”

The beast—Werewolf— _Bucky_ , howls—practically a _coo_ , it's so soft—then drags his tongue along the column of Steve’s throat.

He tentatively lifts his hand up to the Were's—Bucky’s face, fingers petting the smooth white fur on his snout. “Buck, what the hell happened to you?”

Bucky nuzzles his palm, slimy tongue sliding up his wrist and over his fingers.

Steve grimaces and smears the slobber up Bucky’s furry forehead. He’s not going to get any answers from Bucky like this, a soft whine Bucky’s only response as he strokes Bucky’s fuzzy ear. Bucky clambers up onto the bed, mattress sinking under Bucky’s ridiculous weight. He wriggles so Bucky won’t crush him, Bucky huffing and curling around him in the middle of the bed. Bucky’s _tail_ thumps against his calf.

“Hell, Buck, if you’re like this, _here,_ what happened to Sam?”

Bucky coos again and licks the top of his head twice.

“Does that mean he’s alright?” asks Steve, trying to push Bucky back only to give up when Bucky drags him closer and continues grooming his hair. “I can’t imagine you’d leave him…and you got yourself home while you’re like this…”

Bucky stops licking his head and huffs, burying his snout in Steve’s armpit, massive, furry arm, and smaller metal one winding around his waist.

Bucky’s chest is plenty hairy when he’s a human, but it’s nothing compared to the thick fur covering Bucky’s new form. In seconds Steve starts to sweat, Bucky radiating heat, fur trapping it all between them. “You really fucked up our house, ya know?” _Claws_ drag over the back of his jacket, and he shivers. “Racoons are going to get in.”

If a conscious werewolf wasn’t going to give him any intelligible answers, an _unconscious_ one wouldn’t either, Bucky’s eyes shuttered, limbs slack.

He should atleast shut the fridge; there’s not much he can do about their back door in the middle of the night. Steve shifts, Bucky’s arms tightening around him, soft growl tickling his flank and armpit. He squishes his arm around Bucky’s snout, and Bucky’s tail wags. “Weirdo,” he mumbles, falling asleep with Bucky wrapped around him.

Loud pops and cracks startle him awake. Bucky yowls and Steve hurries to clamp his hands around Bucky’s muzzle, muffling Bucky’s groans as Bucky shrinks and transforms before his eyes. White fur and limbs shorten as Bucky twitches and convulses. He loses his grip on Bucky’s snout as it flattens and reshapes into a human nose and mouth. It looks horrific and painful, but Bucky grits his teeth and keeps his eyes tightly closed; he’s been through worse.

It seems like a lifetime until he’s naked and all man, spread sideways across their bed at Steve’s side, gasping for breath in the bands of the morning sun.

“Buck,” whispers Steve, leaning up on his elbow and palming Bucky’s cheek, “what the _hell_ was that?”

Bucky pries his eyes open, that same incredible blue, and casually shrugs, lips quirked, “I, uh, Happy Halloween?”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://eclecticxdetour.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
